


Absolution

by Aphrodisium



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: ABSOLUTELY SMUTTY, Anal Sex, Angst, Body Modification, Copious Amounts of Cum, Double Anal Penetration, Hurt/Comfort, I AM A SINNER FOR WRITING THIS, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Rape/Non-con Elements, Size Kink, Tentacles, Wet & Messy, You Have Been Warned, adding tags as I go, dubcon, this is filthy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-10
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-08-30 03:02:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8516002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aphrodisium/pseuds/Aphrodisium
Summary: Lance wasn’t entirely sure how he got himself into this situation. Scratch that, he knew exactly how, right down to the pinpoint moment in which his decision had put him here, in the maws of alien tentacle-y death.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had to write this out of my system. Heed the warnings! This is very porny. Hardcore porny with DEFFO NON-CON.

Lance wasn’t entirely sure how he got himself into this situation. 

Scratch that, he knew exactly how, right down to the pinpoint moment in which his decision had put him here, in the maws of alien tentacle-y death. 

He had crash landed in a swamp and despite all the chatter from everyone else that warned him to stay put in his Lion, Lance decided that he wanted to explore. It was boring waiting for someone to come get him as Blue wasn’t flying correctly and needed time to repair herself. 

He had brought a water bottle and his bayard, both of which were out of reach. His helmet, he left in Blue’s cockpit. 

“If I survive, I swear I’ll never be adventurous again,” Lance prayed as he struggled to dislodge the tentacles from around his arms. They held tight and more slithered out from the cavern to subdue him. One hooked itself around his neck and pulled and Lance was helpless to go with it. 

It dragged him into the cavern, kicking and screaming all the way. 

Lance probably collided with every piece of rock as he went until finally, the mass of tentacles stopped in what was the end of the tunnel, only apparent to him thanks to the glowing mushrooms that illuminated the high walls. Every joint in his body screamed in pain as he was dropped unceremoniously to the ground. His cheek collided with hard stone. 

Before he could even think about running, tentacles pinned him to the spot, securing themselves onto his arms and thighs. 

Lance pulled helplessly and groaned. “I’m too young to die!” 

One tentacle, separate from the swarm, danced in front of his face. Lance squinted at it and as if sensing the moment of wariness, it caressed Lance’s cheek. It was slimy and warm and smelled like flowers, for some reason. Lance wrinkled his nose and tried to turn away. It was gross and he didn’t want it touching him. 

Tentacles wrapped itself around his armor and pulled, destroying the chestpiece easily. 

Lance gulped. 

The armor clattered to the ground, useless.

“If you’re doing that to scare me, well, let me tell you! It doesn’t scare me!” 

As if responding to that, the tentacles fisted itself into the black bodysuit that served as a buffer for the armor and yanked, pulling it apart as if it were sheafs of paper. 

Okay, so Lance was maybe a little scared. 

The tentacle at his face pressed against his mouth and secreted a spurt of hot, sticky liquid. Lance sputtered as the liquid flooded onto his tongue and he tried to spit it out, but the tentacle only shoved its way into his mouth, pumping another spurt of whatever it was down his throat. Lance had no choice but to swallow and it was  _ foul _ , whatever it was. 

_ It’s going to drown me _ , Lance thought.  _ Oh god, oh god, I’m going to die.  _

Just as sudden as everything happened, it was over. The tentacle in his mouth retreated and the ones restraining his limbs no longer held on as tight, though they were still forcing him to remain in the odd kneeling position. 

Then, he felt it. 

A slick, slimy tentacle rubbed against his exposed backside and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He would have, if he wasn’t so restrained. 

“I did not sign up for this!” he babbled, scrabbling against the ground as if that would allow him to escape. “If you’re going to kill me, just kill me!” 

But it didn’t. It didn’t kill him. 

Instead, tentacles started to roam over his body, tweaking over his nipples and tugging at his dick. One slithered over his ribs and he bucked at the ticklish sensation. Under their ministrations, he realized to his horror that he was growing hard. 

“I don’t know if you know this, but I’m not a lady...tentacle?” Lance called out. “You can stop? Please?” 

The prodding at his backside grew more invasive as his cheeks were spread and a thin tentacle entered him. Lance gritted his teeth at the foreign sensation. He could feel the tentacle exploring him-- _ oh. Oh god. _

It brushed against his prostate and Lance went rigid, his cock jumping to attention. The tentacle, as if sensing this change, pressed against it again and again. 

“No,” Lance pleaded even as his cock was hard against his belly. “No, no, stop, that is weird-- _ oh my god, ahh _ \--I’m really not-- _ ahh _ !” 

A tentacle wrapped itself around the head of his cock and the sensation of it, the slippery, hotness, was almost enough for Lance right then. Black spots were appearing in his vision, his slit dripping with precum, yet the tentacle still repositioned itself to wrap itself around the base of his cock, tight like a vice. 

A second tentacle prodded at his asshole, this one larger than the first. It slapped a bit against his cheeks before easing itself in and Lance wailed. 

It was tight and uncomfortable, but the smaller tentacle within him brushed against his prostate again and Lance was seeing stars. They continued to pulse within him, sending tingling sparks of pleasure with every thrust. 

He needed to cum, but he couldn’t, not with the tentacle that was stopping him from it. 

“ _ Oh god _ \--” he moaned. “You gotta let me come, you gotta--”

A third tentacle entered, stretching him further. 

His vision went white, his senses overloaded. He may have screamed. 

Lance wasn’t aware that he had blacked out, but if he had, it wasn’t for very long. 

He opened his eyes to find himself upright, being supported by the mass of writhing tentacles. His legs were spread lewdly wide as his dick was being milked by a slimy tentacle. The three tentacles inside his ass was still pounding away, each movement sending heated jolts of lightning through him. 

He had just cum, he was sure of it, and yet his dick was hard and yearning for more. 

He was being fucked by a mass of alien tentacles and he liked it. 

Lance wasn’t sure what that said about himself. 

A tentacle came to wriggle itself in front of his face again and Lance turned away; he was absolutely not going to have a repeat of earlier. He didn’t want to taste that weird stuff, which he realized now was  _ alien tentacle cum. _

The tentacles didn’t seem to like that though and forced his jaws opened before plundering his mouth, forcing its way in to cum down his throat in rivulets. Lance choked and gagged, chest heaving, his eyes watering. 

Then the three tentacles in his ass pulled out, leaving him feeling empty. 

Maybe it was over? 

No, that wasn’t the case. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head as he saw what had come to take their place. It was another tentacle, but this one was bigger than the other three combined, thick and veined, and this one very much resembled the look of a cock. 

“I’m really not a lady--”

His words were cut off as the head of the alien tentacle cock breached his hole. For a moment, Lance forgot to breathe as it entered him, sliding into his body slow and steady, stretching him wide. It felt like it was pressing all the air out of his lungs as it went and Lance was straining, unable to suppress the shudders and gasps. 

When the cock inside him brushed against his prostate, he was cumming, his whole body trembling violently at the sensation. 

He should have been wrung out, over sensitive, and yet, even after that, Lance still felt a fire in the pit of his belly, one that told him he was not yet satisfied. 

“Fuck,” he cursed as the cock sank deeper into him, deeper than he thought possible. His erection just wasn’t going away and he wanted more. 

The cock drew back and then began to drill into him, slow and steady. Every movement, every slide was driving him mad. 

“More, fuck-- _ ah, ahh-- _ faster--” 

He begged and cursed, but the tentacles, as always, didn’t listen. It continued on with that steady pace as Lance mewled and cried, trying to grind down against the cock, but the tentacles holding him back were strong and uncompromising. 

He was practically sobbing with need when the cock decided to up the tempo, slamming into him with a violence that left Lance shaken to the core. 

“Fuck, fuck!” 

He was cumming, again, and something was seriously wrong with him. He couldn’t get enough, he still wanted more. He should be in pain, but he wasn’t and he was loving it; loving the feel of a hard cock inside of him, pounding at the secret part of him.

Panic mixed with the cloud of lust in his brain as the cock continued to thrust into Lance. There was something about the slime, maybe the cum that he had been forced to swallow earlier. Some chemical component that was making him like this. 

The cock thrusting into him was pacing itself erratically now and Lance could tell that it was close. After a few more thrusts, he felt a gush of wetness inside of him as the cock came. And came. And came. 

Holy shit, there was so much. 

The cock was still in his hole, thrusting shallowly and plugging him up as it continued to pour copious amounts of cum into him. 

Lance was full, so full. Tears were streaking down his face as his own cock twitched again, coming for the fourth--fifth? Lance had lost count--time. 

He sobbed when the cock pulled out of his hole and he could feel as all the cum leaked out of him, splashing onto his thighs and the ground. His asshole had been so abused, and yet it twitched at the sensation of being empty. A tentacle stroked at his inner thigh, causing him to shiver. 

“Please,” he pleaded. “Please let me go.” His voice sounded raw and wrecked even to his own ears. He didn’t even know if the mass of tentacles understood speech. It probably didn’t. 

He was forced onto his back to the ground this time, ass and legs in the air as his spine bent into an uncomfortable position. There was a rippling in the mass of tentacles and he saw for a brief moment, in the center of it, that it housed not one, not two, but six, thick, slime covered cocks. The first one retreated back into the center and a second slithered out. 

Lance tried to struggle, tried to break free of the restraining tentacles, but he had no strength. It was like it had all been sapped from him and all he could do was lie there and take it. 

The second cock entered him easily and Lance choked on a cry. 

A tentacle, the same one that kept cumming into his mouth, came back. Lance had no strength to turn away and it fucked into his mouth, harsh and quick, cumming again in no time. Lance tried to spit it out, but choked, slivers of cum going down his throat. 

The cock that was fucking into him was going deeper than before, thanks to the new position he was in. Lance didn’t even think it was possible, didn’t think his body could even give in such a way, but it was. All his nerves, all his synapses were on fire. 

His moans and babbling had morphed into quiet groans. His head was spinning and the cock fucking him was going faster, setting a relentless pace. 

“ _ Ahh, ahh--” _

If it kept going like that, kept brushing against his abused prostate, Lance was going to come again. In this position, his cock dangled in front of his face as the tentacles pumped at it incessantly. Every twitch, every jump that he felt in his dick, he observed, and it would have been fascinating in any other scenario. 

As if sensing the shift in Lance, the cock in his ass changed its angle. It  _ pounded _ into Lance, harder than before, each thrust made to target his prostate, each thrust was made to get Lance to cum. 

He came. 

His own cum splashed into his open mouth, landing on his cheeks. It was just a clear liquid now, no longer white. 

He wondered belatedly if his friends would find him. Or if he would die from being fucked. It was not as glorious a way to go as he once thought.

The cock thrusted once, twice, and was cumming, flooding liquid into him again. Lance groaned at the feeling, of feeling too stretched and full. Finally, he felt the cock abating and it pulled out of him, wet and dripping. His hole was gaping and red and when the cock unplugged him, the stream of cum came slipping out again. 

He couldn’t even find the energy to make a sound. He was absolutely filthy, covered in dirt and fluids and he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to walk again. 

The tentacles were shifting him again, seeming to not be content with having Lance in just one position and he was helpless to go with it. His head was swimming, his vision blurred; he was certain his heart was going to jump out of his throat at any moment. He was fucked, again and again, ruthlessly and without pause, his body trembling and taut like a drawn bow string. He couldn’t even come anymore and still the tentacle wrapped around his cock pumped at it, relentless. 

The third cock fucked him slow, drawing out the pleasure until it melded with the sharpness of pain and Lance was begging, in raspy, pleading breaths for it to just finish it. The fourth one had him practically sitting on it, letting gravity do the work as it speared up into him, deep and unyielding. 

God, Lance was so tired. It was all he could do to keep his eyes open. 

It was then that he heard a noise from the entrance of the cavern. Voices. It sounded as if they were on the other side of a tank of water, but he chalked it up to his exhaustion.

It was them, without a doubt. His team. His friends.

He had to tell them that he was down here!

He opened his mouth, but what came out was a pathetic croak, his voice too broken to make sound, much less form words. 

Something must have alerted alerted them because Lance saw lights and heard the scrabbling of loose dirt under boots. Words were being said, but he couldn’t understand them. 

The tentacle mass rippled, as if knowing without eyes that its lair had been intruded upon. Yet, even then, it didn’t stop fucking Lance; it just pistoned harder, faster, and Lance keened weakly as his body tried to cum, but couldn’t. The tentacles that had been holding him down now pulled him up, towards the center that kept its cocks hidden, and  _ oh god _ , every tiny movement brought a rush of heat into his veins. 

Tentacles of all shapes and sizes slid over him, pulling him into the mass, as if attempting to hide him from the world. They slithered over his legs and lower body, until only his torso and head remained above the tentacles. His arms were pulled back to keep him from struggling; not that he could, anyway.

“Damn, it stinks in here!”

The voice--Pidge’s--was close. So close. 

Lance tried to reach out, to yell, to do  _ something _ , but he couldn’t seem to muster the energy. He closed his eyes and took a stuttering breath, when the cock buried in his ass pulsed and then came. He gasped at the feeling, of the hot liquid that was being spilled inside, and somehow, that sound he made was enough. 

The cock slipped out of him, sated.

“Lance!” 

Hunk flew into view, his helmet sealed tight over his head so he wasn’t breathing in any of the foul air. His bayard was drawn and he let out a blast that nearly singed the hair on Lance’s head. 

The mass of tentacles  _ screeched,  _ bits of broken and charred limbs falling to the ground _.  _ Lance hadn’t even known that it had vocal chords of any kind, but apparently it was hidden somewhere. 

“How do we get him out of there?!”

Oh god, Lance had to warn them about the insane strength of the tentacles; the damn things broke through his armor with no problem! Not to mention that they were stupidly fast, which was how he was caught in the first place.

“Keith! Shiro! We need back up, now!”

Hunk let off another blast, blowing more chunks off of the mass of tentacles, but it wasn't enough, not when he was so scared of hitting Lance.

Long tentacles shot out, whiplike in their movements. These were the ones that had snagged him and pulled him into here, Lance realized. It was a strange moment to acknowledge that he knew the tentacles served different functions.

He had spent way too long here.

The attack tentacles lashed out at Hunk, but Pidge intercepted, her bayard glowing a bright green in the dim light. She deflected one and severed another, but more rose to take their place, forcing both Hunk and Pidge to step backwards. 

“Lance, buddy!” Hunk yelled, but Lance was struggling just to keep his eyes opened.

Why was he so tired? It was like all his energy had been sapped away. 

Then, he felt it. 

At first it was just a rough slide between his cheeks, and then, with intent, the fifth cock sank into him. 

What was it doing?! Was this thing just a ball of horniness? Did it not know that it was staring down the rest of Team Voltron and that they were going to tear its tentacle-y mass a new asshole? 

Apparently not. The alien tentacle cock didn’t seem to be worried at all, fucking slowly into Lance’s ass. 

Lance could die of embarrassment. His team was going to see him skewered on alien cock, cum leaking out of his hole like a well-used slut. The only consolation was that currently, the mass of tentacles was hiding half of him inside of a protective wall of...more tentacles. 

The attack tentacles was whipping up a frenzy. Hunk let off another shot, this one nearly colliding where Lance’s knee was hidden. The creature screeched again as bits of it fell apart. Cold air hit Lance’s leg and he shivered. 

Dimly, he felt something else press against him, against his much abused ass. It was the last cock that had been hidden in the center core poking at him. 

_ Oh god, no, no, it is not going to fit-- _

Lance couldn’t complete the thought as a second cock pressed into him. He didn’t think he had any energy left, but he screamed, hoarse and broken as the head got through the ring of muscle, sliding in slowly inch by inch to settle inside of him. He was already stretched so wide, he wasn’t sure how he hadn’t been split in two already. 

They fucked him in tandem, the slow rhythm of before gone. It was fast and merciless, the burn of it feeling so good that Lance sobbed, already wrecked beyond understanding. His whole body was strung so tightly that he was sure that he was only steps away from breaking.

There was yelling and a flurry of noise; the tentacles around him spasmed excitedly as Lance opened his eyes--when did he close them?--to see that Hunk had been caught. His bayard had been flung from his hands and he was thrashing about, trying to get the tentacles restraining him off. 

Lance watched, breath hitched in his throat as the tentacles wrapped around Hunk’s armor in the same move he had been subjected to earlier--and pulled. The armor cracked, but that was as far as the tentacles got before Pidge came rushing in, bayard at the ready. 

She managed to hack away at two of the tentacles, but it just wasn’t enough. 

“Fuck!” She cursed as one knocked her clear across the cavern.

The cocks inside Lance jumped and twitched, as if throwing Pidge like that pleased it. It probably did. How the hell was Lance supposed to know?

Hunk had managed to scramble away, grabbing his bayard from the ground. Behind him, Lance lethargically recognized the figures of Shiro and Keith. Shiro was pulling the limp body of Pidge away to safety. 

Thank fuck they were here. 

Tears streaked down his face as his body spasmed, somehow on the edge of another orgasm despite the fact that he was empty. He had nothing left to give. 

Yet this one felt strange. Different. His whole body was throbbing, clenching and unclenching tired and sore muscles; his vision went grey, staticy like an old television set, and his breath was forced out of his lungs. All his awareness narrowed down to the pair of cocks inside of him and after a thrust, two, he was cumming, harder than he ever had before. 

The cocks came too, gushing rivers of liquid into him. It was so much--too much. He might have screamed again, he wasn’t sure. He couldn’t tell up from down, left from right; every nerve in his body howling its pleasure, muddying his mind further. He was crying, chest heaving as his body convulsed again, completely involuntary as he rode out the orgasm. 

He closed his eyes, practically choking on his own tears and saliva when the cocks left his body. The cum inside splattered out now that there was nothing plugging him up, cascading noisily onto the ground. 

Lance couldn’t even keep his head up at this point. All the sounds in the cavern were just that: sound. His brain couldn’t make sense of it and Lance?

He fell into the inky blackness, unable to keep conscious. 

* * *

When Lance woke up again, he was stumbling out of the healing pod. It must have been late at night because he saw Hunk curled up under a blanket, fast asleep. Next to him was Pidge, her laptop closed and balanced precariously on her knees, also snoring away. 

He would have loved to wake the two, but flashbacks of the tentacles hit him like a freight train. He needed a shower even though…

Lance looked down at himself. He had been cleaned, at least rudimentarily, it seemed. He was glad that he hadn’t been conscious through that; it’d have been even more embarrassing, especially since they also had to drag his naked ass back to the castle. 

There was no one else in the halls, not even the mice. Lance made it back to his room and locked the door, making a beeline for the showers. 

He got in, set the temperature to as high as it would go, and started scrubbing. 

He was still sticky; he could practically feel the slimy tentacles crawling over him, caressing him, a ghost of a whisper. 

Lance wrenched his thoughts away from the cavern even as his cock twitched at the memories. He glared at that part of his anatomy, the traitor. He didn’t want to think about it and set about to making sure every bit of him was clean before being confronted with the most difficult part. 

There had been so much cum inside him and he didn’t know who cleaned him up. He didn’t think that they would...clean him there. And yet, now that he was faced with this, Lance’s hands trembled. 

Taking a breath, he pushed his fingers in. 

His insides were soft, more pliant than he imagined, and suspiciously dry. Lance sighed in relief until his fingers poked against something that nearly made him jump a foot in the air. It was a tingling bundle of nerves that had definitely not been there before and upon touching it, Lance found that he was no longer dry. There was no doubt about it; his body was somehow producing a slick lubricant and it ran down his fingers to mix with the shower water.

Lance quickly pulled his fingers back. 

“Well,” he said. “Fuck.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Several weeks after the Tentacle Alien That Will Never Be Mentioned Ever Again, the rest of Team Voltron had apparently decided that someone needed to be with Lance at all times. Especially if he decided to go off base.

It’s not that he minded having someone with him at all times--it made him feel less lonely here, out in the emptiness of space--but it was because he kept feeling absolutely knackered after social interaction that made him so upset with the whole situation. He couldn’t figure out why, but his energy just wasn’t up to normal levels. Talking for long periods of time wore him out more often than not and the forced interaction made him snappy and irritated.

The team definitely noticed it.

Shiro took him aside after training one day to say: “It is okay to ask for help.”

Lance blinked at him, not entirely sure what to respond with. Shiro took his silence as a cue to continue.

“I know you went through something horrible and that we didn’t get to you in time to save you. But if you ever need someone to talk to, you can come to me.” Shiro’s eyes were soft and Lance realized that Shiro was feeling guilty. Guilty about not making it in time to save him from the alien tentacle monster.

But it wasn’t Shiro’s fault that he ended up in that mess.

Lance hung his head. “Sorry,” he said. “You guys told me to stay put, but I wanted to go explore and then you guys had to save me. It wasn’t fair of--”

Shiro placed a hand on his shoulder, stemming the flow of words.

“No,” he said. “Never apologize for being yourself.” He paused. “Besides, that’s what Voltron is here for, right? We’re here to save people and that includes you.”

Shiro had been the one to carry him all the way back to the castle while Keith carried Pidge. Hunk, Pidge, and Lance--all three of them had ended up inside the healing pods at the end of the day, though each of them for varying degrees of time. Hunk had a fractured rib and Pidge suffered a concussion. If she hadn’t been wearing her helmet, her skull would have cracked open from the blow she suffered. And Lance...well. He didn’t want to know the details of what happened to him.

He really should find Coran and ask what happened. He should. There were questions that he needed answered.

But Lance knew he wouldn’t.

“Thanks, Shiro,” he said, focusing on the situation at hand. “I’m still, I think, you know--” he waved his fingers towards his head. “Processing.”

Shiro offered him a smile and squeezed his shoulder before letting go. “If you need anything, I’m here.”

“Thanks,” he repeated. That was all Lance could say.

Thanks.

Shiro let him go and Lance had never been so relieved to get away from someone he highly respected and looked up to. He knew that Hunk and Keith were in the common room, Pidge probably with them, but Lance wasn’t up to talking anymore. He just wanted to go to bed.

He managed to just dodge around Coran in the halls, who looked to be making a beeline for the rest of the Paladins with an interesting pot of...something. It didn’t look entirely edible.

Lance made it into his room and collapsed onto the bed, just barely shucking his shoes off before faceplanting onto his pillow. Maybe a nap would help. It was typical these days for him to have a light headache in the early evenings, though he knew that was hardly normal.

He really should go talk to Coran.

Sleep was oddly fleeting despite the strange lack of energy that plagued him; everything just seemed to go back to...to that swamp. It had been several weeks, but somehow, his mind just kept bringing him back to the cave, to that unmentionable time that definitely didn’t happen.

Lance was not in denial.

He just didn’t want to think about it even when all he wanted to was to think about it, apparently.

Opening his eyes, he stared at the ceiling of his room, faintly visible thanks to the bright glow of the hallway light outside leaking in through the cracks of the door. He really wanted some sleep; his body was weary in a way that went beyond the physical training he endured today.

He turned over, pulling the blankets over his head as he curled into a ball, trying to find a sliver of comfort in the darkness. Hopefully, he’ll manage a nap before someone came to fetch him for dinner.

And also hopefully, dinner wasn't the weird pot of stuff he saw Coran carrying earlier. He could do without that.

* * *

There were hands on him. He couldn’t count how many there were, just that they were there, coming and going into the veil of darkness. Hands of all colors ghosted over his ribs, his thighs, his buttocks, touching everywhere but not really where he needed. Lance was achingly hard and he tried to move his arms, but they were pinned over his head, rendered immobile.

God, he just needed something--some friction, anything, but the hands on him continued their leisurely exploring of the planes of his body, ignoring his erection completely.

They patted his hair, caressed his face, brushed over his collarbone. He gasped and whined at the sensation, his whole body thrumming with need.

And then finally, after an eternity of waiting, hands reached to cup his cock and Lance had to bite his lips from shouting. The hands were warm and steady as they stroked his shaft and massaged his balls, spiking the pleasant hum of arousal in Lance’s bloodstream to a whole new level.

Fingers spread his buttocks to poke at the hole there and Lance felt his whole body quiver in anticipation. He was already wet, so wet--

Wait. What.

Something in him jarred at that realization and the darkness fell away to reveal the roof of a cave. The hands weren’t hands anymore, but tentacles, illuminated by dull glowing mushrooms that lined the cave wall.

Every bone in Lance’s body locked into place in panic. A tentacle entered him and instead of pleasuring him, it twisted and pulled at his insides.

Lance screamed--

And woke up in his room with Hunk’s alarmed face just inches from his own. They stared wide-eyed at each other for a fraction of a moment before Lance spoke.

“I’m gonna throw up,” he warned a second before upchucking his stomach onto Hunk’s feet.

* * *

“You are not fine!”

The thing with Hunk was that he was a great friend. The best friend anyone could have. The bestest friend that Lance did have.

Said bestest friend currently had Lance tossed over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes because he cared. A little part of Lance was warmed at how much Hunk cared, but the majority of Lance was struggling to get out of Hunk’s grasp.

“At least set me down so I can walk on my own!”

“I did! And then you ran away! Dude, stop kicking me, ow, that hurts.”

“Then let me down,” Lance hissed.

Heaving a big sigh, Hunk stopped in his determined march for the infirmary and let Lance down.

“You are not ok,” Hunk said.

Lance threw his hands over his head. “Yeah, fine! I’ll admit! I’m not ok! I don’t sleep well, I’m cranky all the time, and it doesn’t help that no one is ever leaving me alone!”

He could see Hunk visibly shrink at that, but if there was one thing about Hunk was how stubborn he was. Everyone on Team Voltron was stubborn to some degree, but Lance knew no one expected it from Hunk because he was usually so mild mannered and a bit of a pushover.

“I get it, you’re hurting,” said Hunk. “So I’m going to pretend that wasn’t a jab at me. Besides, you have a fever and you just vomited all over my shoes.”

Said shoes were currently being laundered by the super advanced laundry machine in the bowels of the castle. It could clean anything, Lance was pretty sure. He was confident that Hunk’s shoes would pop back out better than before and maybe the dried gum that had been stuck to the sole of his shoe for the past year would also be cleaned off.

“I do not have a fever,” Lance contested. In fact, he was feeling rather chilly rather than warm.

“Yes, you do,” Hunk insisted, dragging Lance with him as he continued to the infirmary. “Don’t make me get Coran because I will.”

“Hunk, I’m okay,” Lance said, digging his heels in. “So I have a little fever. I just really want some water and some bed rest. I mean, that’s why I was sleeping just before I yakked all over your shoes. I’m just a bit out of it and a good night of sleep should fix me up. I swear, buddy. Have I ever lied to you?”

Hunk glared at him. “Yes. You literally just admitted that you lied about not having a fever.”

Lance made a face. “Right. Seriously though, just let me go get some water and some sleep.”

“Fine. Let’s get you some antibiotics and then I’ll let you go sleep.”

“Making a mountain out of molehills,” Lance said, shaking his head. “If I was really that sick, would I be putting up this much of a protest?”

Hunk narrowed his eyes at Lance, obviously upset, his mouth pressed into a thin line as he considered Lance’s words. “You’re about as stubborn as me sometimes,” he said in the end. “Get some water, eat a bit if you can since you missed dinner entirely, and get some sleep. I’ll check up on you later.”

Lance grinned. “Aww, thanks buddy. You’re the best.” He tossed some air kisses in Hunk’s direction before beating a hasty retreat, in case Hunk changed his mind.

He jogged back the way they came, at first thinking of heading to the kitchen because he was honestly a bit thirsty, when suddenly, it felt like the world came to a standstill. A sharp stabbing pain in his abdomen forced him to collapse against the nearest wall. It was so painful that he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move a muscle as his gut spasmed in agony.

Then, just as swift as the pain came, it vanished. His breathing returned to normal and now he just looked like an absolute mess leaning against the wall, clutching at his stomach. Glad that Hunk hadn’t been around to see him like that, Lance quickly stumbled back to his room, engaging the locking mechanism behind him as an afterthought.

Fucking hell, what was happening?

Lance glared down at his body.

Whatever, it wasn’t like he planned on doing anything besides trying to catch some shut eye anyway.

He flung himself onto his bed, screwing his eyes shut.

He didn’t feel like sleeping though. There was a strange itch thrumming under his skin, a buzz that was akin to excess energy flowing through him that he needed to work off.

And that was when he noticed it. At first he thought he was imagining it, but when he shifted his leg, there was an undeniable wetness in his underpants. Lance nearly vaulted off of his mattress and beelined to the bathroom, shucking off his pants--not soaked, thank god, because Hunk would have absolutely saw. His underpants on the other hand, were wet.

It wasn’t blood or sweat and it certainly wasn’t semen either. It was...slick like lubricant and clear and undeniably a symptom of what Lance had been avoiding the last couple of weeks.

“Fuck.”

He tore off the rest of his clothes and stepped into the shower, determined to get cleaned. He knew exactly what his body secreting that...stuff meant. It had happened only a handful of times since he had first discovered that his body was capable of making it, though it was undeniably arousal that instigated the production.

Lance was terrified to ask Coran what had happened to his body, but he wasn’t sure that he’d like the answer.

But then again, he was fine.

Just still processing.

* * *

Days passed and Lance wasn’t feeling better. If anything, he felt worse.

Hunk glared at him from the other side of the meditation circle, the words of ‘you should have listened!’ written metaphorically everywhere on his face. Lance thanked every deity that might have been listening that Shiro suggested they focus on meditation and image training for the moment because he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to do much aside from flailing about.

“Your breathing is off, Lance,” said Shiro. “Synchronize with us.”

He tried and failed miserably, just ended up coughing instead.

“Can I say something?” Hunk was leveling a Look at Lance and he did not like that look.

“Yes?” Shiro prompted.

“Lance is sick; he won't say it out loud but he is. He even threw up on my shoes the other day.”

“Traitor,” Lance wheezed.

Pidge rolled her eyes and in a surprisingly familiar gesture, she ran a hand down Lance’s back, rubbing in firm circles until his coughs abated. “You didn't need to tell us, Hunk,” she said. “We all have eyes.”

“Minor case of space flu. I’m fine,” Lance said, attempting to wave Pidge away, even if he strangely craved the comfort she offered him. He didn't want her to stop rubbing his back. “Who knows, maybe you guys will catch it too, after me.”

“Because of you,” Keith corrected, wrinkling his nose.

“I’ll make sure to share the wealth with you especially.”

Shiro sighed, loud and audible. “Lance, maybe you should go talk to Coran and see if the healing pods will help.”

It was phrased like a suggestion, but Lance knew better. “Okaaaay,” he said, drawing out the word as he got to his feet.

He left the training room with a half-hearted wave. Now that he was being told to go find Coran explicitly, Lance knew that Shiro or Hunk or, hell, even Pidge and Keith, would probably follow up with him. They’d all be disappointed if he didn’t actually go talk to Coran now.

He blinked, as the world suddenly swam and tilted. He found himself leaning against a wall to hold himself up--again. His heart felt like it had skipped several beats and his lungs burned, strangely enough. His whole body tingled and Lance shuddered as the weird feeling subsided, leaving him hollow and tired.

Maybe he’ll go talk to Coran after a nap.

Yeah, he’ll do just that.

Lance decidedly made a beeline for his room, the one place where he was hiding in more and more these days when things were rough, and just as when the door shut behind him, the tingling feeling in his body started up again. He stripped off his clothes and shoes, crawling into the bed in just his boxer shorts.

It wasn’t difficult to fall asleep, he was unexpectedly exhausted for it still being morning. What was difficult was stopping his mind from dreaming.

He was in a jungle somewhere, _thank god_ nowhere in a cave, and there was the most bodacious babe with him. Oddly, she reminded Lance a lot of Nyma, with her yellow skin and long, slender neck. Her hands were big and warm around Lance’s and from the way she was kissing him, things were getting hot and heavy and only going to get better from here.

One moment they were kissing and the next, their clothes were conveniently gone as the Nyma-lookalike pressed up against him purring, her breasts soft and flush against his own chest as she wriggled in between his legs. She pushed him onto his back, one of her large, warm hands coming to wrap around his erection, expertly setting to work on his cock.

He bucked up into her grasp and she giggled, almost a cooing noise against the shell of his ear. With her second hand, she slid it down the length of his body, idly mapping it out before running it back up to one of his hands.

She grabbed both of them and cuffed them to a tree.

“Oh my god,” Lance breathed. He tugged on the bonds, but they held. “No.”

Nyma-lookalike grinned, her expression sweet. “But you like this,” she said and the hand that had been on his cock moved further south, pausing to caress his balls, before pushing a finger into his slick-wet hole. His walls spasmed around her finger and she giggled, slowly fucking him with her finger.

Lance should have been horrified or even repulsed, but he wasn’t. He gasped and moaned as his body gave way to a second finger, each touch inside of him bringing sensations of pleasure that clouded his vision. And yet…

“This isn’t enough,” she sighed.

She looked just as disappointed as Lance felt. Then her expression changed and she withdrew her fingers from within Lance.

“You want this,” she said. She reached inside her slit and to Lance’s dawning horror, drew a cock. It was thick and veined, a slightly darker color from the rest of her skin. She nodded, pleased, and lined her cock up with his hole.

Lance couldn’t protest--didn’t want to really, despite the aversion he had to the image of her with a cock. She sheathed herself in him with one thrust of her hips and it was like fireworks were exploding behind his eyelids. He wanted it--he wanted it so bad, could feel himself tightening around her, his walls desperate to feel the drag of a cock against them as more slick poured from his hole--

Lance woke with a yelp, nearly hopping out of bed as a gush of wetness fell against his thigh.

He was hard, so hard that it was nearly painful.

He glared down at his tented underpants before deciding to remove them from his person, tossing them to the side with the rest of his clothes. God, he was so wet.

He strode over to the bathroom, determined to ignore the fluid running down his leg as he stepped into the shower. He had been taking more and more showers lately, mostly in response to the fact that it was easier to pretend stuff sluicing off of him was water, even when it wasn’t. The consistency and the feel of it was just too different, too easy to identify, but both the liquids were clear and that was enough for Lance.

He cleaned himself in icy cold water, quickly killing his erection and arousal efficiently. When he got out, he grabbed the last set of his clean clothes and made a determined march to where he knew Coran usually was when not overseeing the Paladin’s training: the kitchen.

Lance had just made it to the kitchen door when the loud screech of the castle’s alarm sounded, making him jump.

“Quiznaks!” he heard Coran curse and a moment later, the man himself appeared in the hall. He paused to give Lance a once over, frowning. “You alright there, Lance?”

Lance sucked in a breath.

“I’m fine,” he replied.


	3. Chapter 3

Lance was absolutely jittery and every nerve in his body was setting him on fire--painfully. His skin felt too tight, he was overly warm all the time, and the worst of all was that he was horny out of his mind. Well, no, he was still quite in control of his faculties, but his body just didn’t seem to want to listen. Uncomfortable boners everywhere.

Speaking of.

He had completely forgot to talk to Coran. For about a week and maybe, it was an ongoing forgetfulness.

Did the rest of the team know? No. Was it coming back to bite him in the ass? Yes.

All Lance wanted was some semblance of normalcy and forget all about the traumatic alien tentacle thing had ever happened. It could have been a dream. A nightmare. No one else talked about it so Lance could pretend. He was very good at pretending, especially when it came to things he really shouldn’t be avoiding.

Like his team. His friends.

He didn’t want to avoid them, but the sharp, stabbing pain hit randomly and hit hard. He couldn’t chance another encounter like the one he had with Pidge just two days prior.

“You okay?” Pidge had asked after nearly colliding with Lance going around the corner. Her tiny skull, while looking fluffy and soft thanks to her voluminous hair, actually hurt a lot when smacking into his sternum.

“Your fault,” Lance muttered as he tried to figure out which way was up again without moving any of his limbs while his stomach decided to kill him from the inside out. He groaned and tried not to move.

Pidge had said some stuff which was completely lost on Lance--it was difficult to hear when his ears were ringing--until biting, quick words punctured through the haze that sounded akin to: “you need help”.

“Nope!” Lance gathered his limbs and sprung off the floor, gritting his teeth against the pain and even when all he wanted was to lay back down. “I’m fine! Just-just be careful running around the halls, it’s so crowded.” He plastered a grin onto his face, made sure Pidge saw it before rounding the corner and escaping.

Now, he made sure to be sitting when he could, just in case, but because most of the time they were all up and about with training and drills, there wasn’t much sitting, except at meal times.

Like now.

Hunk was making a joke and Lance was absolutely going to make a bawdy comment in return when the stabbing pain came back, gutting the air from his lungs and forcing every nerve in his body to take notice. He gritted his teeth and nearly slammed his fist onto the table, missing it at the last second to jab himself in the leg instead.

Keith, sitting on Lance’s other side, quirked an eyebrow at him.

 _Oh no,_ Lance thought as he practically watched the cogs in Keith’s brain turn, probably about to ask him what was wrong. _Fuck! Don’t ask, don’t ask!_

“We’ll be getting some provisions later today,” Allura announced, effectively distracting nearly everybody at the table.

“We’re gonna spend some time planet-side?” Pidge asked. Lance could tell that she was excited simply from the way she spoke: her voice got consistently more high pitched as it went on.

“It’s been so long,” Hunk groaned dramatically. “How is it to feel the sun? I don’t even know anymore.”

“But what if where we’re going doesn’t have a sun?” Keith asked, looking around Lance to speak to Hunk. “What if it’s all artificial lights?”

Lance’s eye twitched. When did they get so buddy-buddy?

Slowly, the pain receded and Lance began to join in on the conversation.

Everyone was excited, Lance included, because it was always cool to go visit new planets. That was kind of the thing with the Garrison; Lance joined because he wanted to be a pilot, but most of all, he wanted to be on the front lines of exploration through space. This was what he wanted; exploring new worlds, finding new sights, discovering a whole different way of living.

Not that Voltron wasn’t cool or anything, but seeing a whole new civilization and _aliens?_

Well, Lance could only speak for himself, but he was pretty sure that the general consensus was: that was pretty awesome.

Because _space._

* * *

Lance had completely forgotten about the ‘Lance must never be alone again when off-base’ rule that everyone else thought he didn’t know about. There had been some sort of odd moment where the rest of the Paladins had held up fists, except for Keith, who flashed some sort of peace sign and then groaned. Lance wouldn’t have noticed that at all if Keith hadn’t gone to Hunk and begged: “Please?”

“Please what?” Lance asked, sauntering over as everyone else waved and filtered away from the parked shuttle, eager to enjoy their short time off. It was only for a few hours before they were scheduled to head back up into the castle and Lance was absolutely going to take advantage of everything.

“Normally, I would, but I cannot be distracted from getting us some real food. And maybe something nice for Shay when we meet again,” Hunk said. “Thanks, Keith. Bye, Keith. Bye, Lance.” He smiled, waved, and just like that, he was gone too.

Keith groaned again and slapped a hand over his face.

Lance waited until Hunk was out of earshot before turning to Keith and saying: “You do not have to babysit me. In fact, I would encourage you to go off and do your own thing because I don’t need no mullet all up in my business.”

Keith turned to him with a glare, the words ‘determined’ practically written on his forehead. “No,” he said flatly.

Lance shrugged. “Okay. I am definitely going to go shopping. Feel free to ditch me whenever.”

“I am not--” Keith sighed audibly as he followed Lance down the path to the city proper. “We’ve bonded. We’re friends. Friends hang out. Friends also look out for each other. Friends do that.”

Lance grinned and found himself unexpectedly chuckling at Keith’s words.

They were friends--they have been for a while, there was no denying that. “Keep talking like that and I’m going to pretend I don’t know you,” Lance teased, picking up his pace as they entered the rim of civilization.

The high reaching spires of the city stretched beyond the clouds and most of the buildings resembled slim, white colored pillars that tapered down into an oblong base. Sky walks decorated the spaces between the buildings as easy access for pedestrians and vehicles ran on a predetermined strip along the ground. It was all so very different from what Lance was used to and he was glad that Keith was with him to share in his wonder, but at the same time...it was Keith.

His way of making friends was to forcibly declare it to the world regardless of how the other party felt.

It was kind of cute though, endearing even. But Lance had been locked in a competition with Keith for nearly the entirety that they’ve known each other and it was difficult to forget that.

They made their way to a street that was lined with shops all crammed together in a grid-like fashion. Gaudy signs that lit up the walkways were a marvel and an eyesore, one that Keith grumbled about, but instantly made Lance buzz with excitement.

“Keith, we gotta go see,” Lance said. “Look! A gift shop!”

“You can't read the language, how do you even know it's a gift shop?”

“It looks like one!”

Keith very audibly facepalmed.

Lance wasted no time to saunter into the gift shop and was taken aback how much larger the inside of it looked compared to the outside. It was impossibly wide and would have reached three entrances down, and yet when Lance leaned back out to make sure he wasn't dreaming, found that the next shop over was a clothing store that was also housed in an impossible space.

“Is this an illusion?” Keith asked, eyebrows furrowed tightly together.

Lance grinned at him. “Only one way to find out!”

He grabbed Keith by the hand and immediately started to run down the aisles in the gift shop, narrowly dodging around strange looking merchandise.

Turns out, it wasn't an illusion. The shop was definitely housed in some strange, physics-defying space that Lance couldn't really wrap his brain around and he hoped that Hunk was seeing this too. Hunk and Pidge would probably be freaking out over this and it probably would have been hilarious to watch.

“No running!” Boomed the harried looking shopkeep from behind the counter.

“Sorry!” Lance called out, but really, he was having too much fun to stop. When they didn’t stop, the shopkeep sent a little white droid robot to chase them out of the shop and back into the streets.

“Holy shit! Keith, can you believe this?!”

He turned to Keith, but found him rather red in the face as his eyes were locked in on Lance’s grip on his hand.

Lance sighed and let go. He didn’t want to be punched in the face today, although he was reasonably sure that Keith would try to talk to him first before letting the fists fly. Reasonably sure. Not a total 100% certainty.

“Come on, we have a whole street to explore!” Lance said, interrupting whatever thoughts Keith was having. “We don’t have all day, as much as I wish we did.”

That seemed to do the trick and snap Keith out of whatever it was. “Yeah,” said Keith slowly, though he didn’t meet Lance’s eyes. “Okay, let’s go.”

They went through a great number of shops, each one making Lance wish he had just a little bit of pocket money to spend. He did notice as time went on, Keith started to get more snappy and agitated, sticking close to Lance’s side as if he was a wandering child in danger from circling predators.

It was...strangely appealing to Lance and he tried not to examine why too closely. One thing about thinking of Keith was that, despite his personality, he was stupidly good looking and Lance’s dick was all too eager to respond to any sort of stimuli lately. Even Keith, godforbid.

“Are you done yet?” Keith asked crossly.

“No, but if you’re bored, feel free to wait for me outside,” Lance replied, gesturing to the exit of the shop they were in. It was pretty much what his sister used to say to him when he was tired during their shopping expeditions. Just the thought of it shot a pang of melancholy through his chest and all of a sudden, he was completely out of energy.

He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “Okay, you know what, let’s go.”

Keith raised an eyebrow at his sudden change of heart, but didn’t question it and obediently followed after Lance to the entrance.

Lance had just stepped over the threshold when he collided with another customer, a thin wispy alien that was just tall enough to have to bow its head to get through the entrance.

“Whoops, sorry, my bad,” Lance said, trying for a sincerely apologetic smile. The alien just stared with its four red eyes in silence, its mandibles seeming slack in shock like it couldn’t believe that Lance had the audacity to run into it.

The alien whirled on Keith. “You’re letting him just run around in that state?!” it hissed. Its voice was higher than Lance expected--female, probably. “What kind of _desirros_ are you to let your _desidare_ be in such torture?”

Keith’s face went blank for a moment before morphing into an angry looking scowl. Lance was certain that neither of them had any inkling about what the alien was referring to, but Keith’s hackles were raised regardless.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Keith snapped. To Lance: “We’re leaving.”

“Right,” Lance said, scampering along, all too eager to move on before he got dragged into the yelling too.

He took one step, two steps forward and suddenly, his balance was gone and his limbs were rebelling. He crashed to the ground, all his nerve endings on fire as the pain spread from his side to his whole body. He couldn’t move, could hardly suck in a single breath, the pain was so bad, practically the only thing he could concentrate on. This was the worst one of the attacks he had yet experienced.

_Oh god, oh god, nope, this is not happening right now!_

Keith was at his side almost instantly, his mouth moving as if speaking, but Lance couldn’t hear anything except for a high pitched whining in his ear drowning out the world.

His body had the worst timing in the world, seriously. Why did it have to be now? Couldn’t it have been when he was alone?

But really, Lance should have anticipated this. The pain had been escalating in magnitude and frequency. His luck had finally run out and now, Keith was definitely going to tell Shiro and Shiro was going to tell Coran and Coran was going to look very disappointed with him and tell him that his body--

Lance didn’t want to know what happened to his body. He didn’t want to know if his body was breaking down. If his body was betraying him. He didn’t want to know if somehow, he was dying because he didn’t want to die, not yet. He had to go home first, he couldn’t die in space.

Lance wanted to scream as Keith picked him up in a princess carry.

_Put me down, put me down, I can walk!_

Keith did not magically hear his thoughts and neither did he put Lance back down.

The alien from before appeared in the periphery of his vision and she looked like she was speaking to Keith, her mandibles moving a mile a minute as she spoke.

Whatever she said had Keith following after her as she hastily moved down the street into a building that had clinically white walls and a bored two-headed alien sitting in front of a large security booth. By now, Lance’s hearing had begun to return, the high pitched tinny noise in his ears receding.

“--you are not his _desirros_ then?” the alien was asking Keith, her tone of voice bordering on incredulous.

“I have no idea what you mean, lady,” Keith replied brusquely. “But we need help.”

She sighed and muttered something about rude tourists before turning to the security guard. “A _desidare_ needs help. Can he get a room? I think he might be overdue for treatment.”

One of the heads turned to her, though his gaze was on Lance, who was still being held by Keith. The security guard wrinkled his nose.

“I’ll say,” he commented. “He’s not the _desirros,_ is he?”

“No,” the female alien said. She was fuming at Keith for whatever it was that he was not which brought a tiny bit of glee to Lance because of course Keith would piss off the locals for just being Keith.

“I told you that I have no idea what you’re talking about!” Keith snapped, his grip on Lance tightening just to the side of painful. He must have made a noise because Keith’s gaze moved to him and nearly dropped him onto the floor.

“Lemme down,” Lance managed to croak, though his voice sounded strange even to his ears. A bit more throaty than he expected.

Keith hesitated for a fraction of a second before gingerly letting him go, careful to make sure that Lance wasn’t about to bowl over again just from standing. His concern made Lance feel fuzzy, a vast improvement over how he was feeling just a moment ago.

“You never went for that check up with Coran, did you,” Keith accused, eyes narrowing. He had finally connected the dots of the events that happened over the past few weeks.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lance muttered, staring at his shoes.

“Room for one,” pipped the security guard’s second head. He turned to the lady, beady eyes gleaming. “Are you paying?”

“Yes,” she said without a beat of hesitation. She held out her arm, where a bracelet was clasped snugly. The security guard scanned it and then nodded as the payment went through.

A little turquoise colored droid came drifting out from behind the security guard, its shape shifting from a prism to a cube every few ticks. “This way,” it intoned, almost as if it was bored.

The female alien pushed at Lance, urging him to follow it. “It’s ok,” she said comfortingly. “They’ll take care of you. Don’t worry. If they do something you don’t like, just say so. They’re very accommodating.”

Lance had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but the lady was clearly acting on good intentions. She had even gone and paid for whatever this treatment was supposed to be.

“Lance, I don’t think you should go,” Keith said suddenly. “This is suspicious and whatever it is, we can probably get you healed up at the Castle--”

The lady whirled on Keith, her face turning a violent purple that would put the Galra to shame. “DO YOU HAVE NO--”

Wow, Lance did not want to get in the middle of that.

“Thanks!” Lance squeaked as he followed the floating, shape-changing droid down the hallway and past a shining silver door.

He was lead into a hallway of many doors, each of them with a light shining over them, probably to indicate occupancy. The droid opened a door with a blue light over it, waiting patiently for Lance to enter.

The room inside was small, tiny even, the size of a closet.

“Please remove your attire and then enter the decontamination chamber,” the droid instructed. The door slid shut and there was a beeping noise as if the door had been locked from the outside.

The sudden plummeting feeling in his gut told him that he probably should have listened to Keith and not have gone in. Would the miracles of the day never cease?

But it was too late now. He was here and not out there.

Besides, it couldn’t hurt, could it? The lady seemed to be convinced that this treatment would set him right and if it did, then he wouldn’t need to go talk to Coran about how his body was going haywire.

Lance just really wanted to be okay again. This was a risk that he was willing to take.

He shucked off all his clothes and placed them into a little basket that was provided for him and stepped into the next room that was obviously the decontamination chamber. It didn’t look too different from the one that was on the Castle too, so he knew what to expect.

Or at least, he thought he knew.

It started off with a body scan, which he expected, followed by soapy liquids that were all at once familiar and foreign, whose ultimate purpose was to clean and disinfect. The last bit was odd, when a panel in the wall opened up and instead of blowdrying him as he thought it would, robotic limbs stretched out with warm towels to pat him dry. He nearly jumped in surprise, but the chamber was tiny and there was nowhere to go; he stayed as still as he could, shying away from the robotic limbs, but they were insistent and thorough, and Lance desperately tried to think of anything else. The feel of plush towels brushing against his skin was too soft, almost sensual.

It was a fight with his body to keep himself from getting hard.

After that was done, another door opened for him and he walked to it quickly, eager to leave behind the chamber, wondering what the new room held for him.

The new room was simple, a bit larger than both the first closet-spaced room and the decontamination chamber combined, though not by much. Panels of white lined the floor and walls, making it difficult to tell up from down. There was a strange looking piece of metal in the middle of the room with an ultra reflective coating on it, almost like a mirror. It was in the shape of a lopsided disk with a small decompression in the middle. Lance walked up to it, inspecting it.

Was there supposed to be doctors? Nurses? The lady alien had mentioned ‘treatment’ earlier, so...what was this? What was supposed to happen?

There was a noise as the door to the decontamination chamber opened again and this time, the little droid from earlier came floating in.

“Please get on the chair,” the droid chirruped.

Lance eyed the piece of metal and then the droid. “Is this supposed to be a chair?” he asked.

“Please get on the chair,” the droid repeated.

Lance looked down at his own nudity and blanched at the idea of sitting down on the ultra reflective disk. “How many people sat on that before me?” he asked. “I don’t want to catch some weird alien space germs.”

Somehow, the droid managed to send him a withering glare even though it didn’t have eyes, just a single, circular lens in which it used to process information. “Please get on the chair,” the droid said and if it sounded impatient, well, Lance has been known to frustrate even machines.

Rover, bless his little robot soul, may he rest in peace, had run ins with Lance that had him metaphorically running back to Pidge for protection.

“Fine, fine, don’t get your panties in a bunch,” Lance said as he moved over to the chair. He sat down on the very edge of it, the feeling of the metal surprisingly warm rather than cold and had a texture that was not unlike rubber. How it was so reflective, he didn’t know.

“Please get on the chair,” the droid snapped.

“I’m on the chair!”

The droid flew forward and shoved at Lance’s chest until he was fully seated on the disk, his legs hovering awkwardly over the edge, slightly spread to accommodate for the way he was sitting. Somehow, this sent a slight tingle of pleasure arcing through him and it was another brief struggle for Lance to get his body under control.

“Is this your first time?” the droid asked.

“First time here? Yes,” Lance replied, beginning to feel more and more weirded out by the whole situation.

He was alone in a room with a shape-changing droid and he was supposed to receive some sort of ‘treatment.’ This was a totally and completely bad idea and Lance was in over his head again.

Nudity be damned, he wondered if he screamed loud enough that Keith would come rescue him.

Actually, scratch that; if Keith came bounding in to rescue him, Lance was one hundred percent certain that he was going to pop a boner. He didn’t need Keith to see that.

The droid beeped at him. “Put your hands on the chair in the space between your knees.”

Lance hesitantly obliged, placing his hands palms downward onto the chair. His fingers twitched in nervousness because how could he not be nervous? He was naked, defenseless in all ways, and the droid was clearly getting fed up with him. Would it maul him? It wouldn’t do that, would it? There’s no way that the lady alien would send him into a murder house.

“Relax,” the droid said.

Why, Lance wanted to ask, but that train of thought was instantly cut off when he realized he was beginning to sink into the chair, the material absorbing him. The whole seat was rearranging itself around him, as if molding itself to him.

Overhead, the droid beeped at him again, the sound echoing ominously through the sterile room.

“You will come to no harm in this establishment and if anything brings you discomfort, please do not hesitate to say so.”

The seat had finally stopped rearranging itself, no longer retaining the shape of a lopsided disk; it was more like a saddle and it left Lance in a strange position. His hands were absorbed into the material, though he could still feel them, even wriggle and move his fingers against the rubbery inside of the shape shifting chair. His legs had also been partially absorbed and pushed just a bit more further apart so it was as if he straddled the bulk of the seat, the position almost resembling one riding a motorbike, if his hands were reaching the position of the front wheel.

“Whoa, whoa, what the heck is going on?” Lance asked, tugging at his limbs to see if there was any give in his restraints. The chair held firm, though it wasn’t painful. He had enough wriggle room that it wasn’t immediately confining. “What’s happening?!”

“You will come to no harm in this establishment and if anything brings you discomfort, please do not hesitate to say so,” the droid repeated cheerily. “Your treatment begins now.”

As if on cue, the seat began to hum. No, that wasn’t right--the seat was vibrating.

Lance squeaked at the unexpected sensation, torn between wanting to get away and--to his utter embarrassment--wanting to grind into it. He couldn’t really move, for escape or otherwise, thanks to the confinement of the chair he was in. From the way he was positioned, the vibrations went straight to his dick and at this point, his body didn’t need any much stimuli to get going.

He was hard, getting harder as the vibrations went on, his dick trapped between the seat and his body. He bit down on his bottom lip, trying to stifle the gasps; he couldn’t believe that he was getting off on this, being strapped to a shape-shifting alien chair with a droid watching him.

“What-what is this?” Lance managed to ask through gritted teeth. “Why?”

“Body scans show that you’ve been in estrus too long and the chemical imbalance within your bloodstream is slowly killing you,” the droid responded. “You are lucky Miss Taxar got you here to us in time.”

Lance gasped as the vibrations suddenly upped in intensity, sending wave after wave of pleasure careening through his body at the feeling. God, he was going to cum from this, he couldn’t hold out any longer. He could feel the unexpected--or expected, who was he kidding at this point--slick trickling down the back of his thighs, dribbling onto the seat as his hole clenched around emptiness.

He groaned and tried to look away from the droid, who stared down at him impassively. Jesus Christ, he was being watched by a _droid_ and normally, he would be more than repelled at the thought, but now, it was sending his libido into overdrive.

In a desperate attempt at trying to find anything else to focus on, Lance made the mistake of looking down.

He saw the reflection of his face in the chair, rosy cheeked and glassy eyed, looking just to the side of debauched and that was it--he was coming, streaks of white falling onto the surface of the seat, some of the liquid splashing against his skin.

The vibrations eased off, slowly dying down as Lance tried to get his breathing under control. God, that had felt good to come. It felt good to feel the vibrations jolting through him like lightning; he had never felt like that before and he wanted more. He wanted to feel it again.

“Phase two,” the droid overhead beeped.

Lance, in his post-orgasm haze, could only blink up at the droid.

_Phase two? That wasn’t it?_

It took him a moment to register it, but the seat underneath him was widening, spreading his legs apart even further, taking away with it any semblance of balance he had left. He tried to brace against the shifting movement with his hands, but it was like trying to brace himself against putty.

Something prodded against his entrance and Lance sucked in a breath at it, his mouth slack as something thick, hard, and warm breached him, sliding in slow and steady. The head of it was tapered, the middle of it being larger in girth and more difficult to accommodate, but Lance was so wet, so slick, that when it was fully sheathed inside him, he had to bite down on his bottom lip to stop from moaning.

It felt so good to be stretched out from the inside, the feeling of being full and stuffed--this was what he was missing, what he needed. The pleasure of just being entered was driving him over the edge and all of Lance’s senses was at a pinpoint focus on his ass, as he clenched desperately at the chair’s accessory. God, he just wanted it to move, to fuck into him already. He was more than ready.

Who would have thought that he’d be here, riding an alien shapeshifting chair?

Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, the chair started a light vibrating again and Lance couldn’t stop the moan that fell from his lips. He wanted to be fucked so bad.

Slowly, the dildo in his ass began to move. It was torturous, the pace it set was practically lethargic as it shifted in and out of him and coupled with the vibrating seat, Lance was going to scream in frustration.

“Come on, come on,” he pleaded, trying to rut back against the much too slow dildo, but the chair held fast, letting him move but for the barest inch, which was nothing in the grand scheme of things. “Come on, please, I need this!”

The droid remained unmoved to his pleas and did nothing, just floated there and watched as Lance came apart at the seams. The bastard.

The dildo continued to fuck him slow and steady, the pace so mechanically precise that it brought tears to Lance’s eyes. He could only clench and unclench to feel the drag of his walls against the toy. The vibrations of the seat only served to help bring him to the precipice of orgasm, but somehow, just wasn’t enough to push him over the edge and _quiznacks_ if he wasn’t getting what he wanted.

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to ignore the tears that came eeking out, streaming down his cheeks to dribble down his chin, hot and salty from where one stray drop fell against his lips. Still, the pace did not increase and a stray thought caught the last of Lance’s brain cells.

“You said that if anything brings me discomfort to not hesitate to say so,” Lance rasped. “I’m telling you, right now, you need to make it go faster!”

The droid made a disgruntled sounding beep and then blessedly--thank fuck--the pace picked up, the dildo pistoning in and out of him going faster, deeper. Lance practically choked on the first thrust, it was so good.

“Like that?” the droid asked, and for a machine, it sounded suspiciously sarcastic.

Lance’s response was a keening whine. He was close, so close, the new pace making him see stars and--

His breath hitched in his throat as orgasm hit him unexpectedly, his dick jerking once, twice, and then he was cumming again, riding the dildo as it continued to thrust inside him through it.

The droid overhead beeped again. “Phase three,” it announced.

Before Lance could ask what the third phase entailed, the chair had stopped vibrating and was shifting again, this time forcing his legs upwards and out, almost as if he was in position to play leap frog and he was the frog. The surface stretched out in front of Lance, the reflection shamelessly displaying the toy that was going in and out of his hole.

He whimpered at the sight, fascinated and at the same time appalled; his mind was just a fog of arousal at this point. He had just cum, but he wasn’t satisfied, not just yet.

He wanted more.

Oh god, there was something seriously wrong with him, how was he not done yet?

Watching himself being fucked was hot, if not weird as hell. His dick was done for the moment, but his whole body was still trembling, as if he was on the edge of another orgasm.

Maybe he was, he thought, as the new position had the dildo brushing against the strange bundle of nerves that he discovered after the encounter with the alien tentacles. Each thrust brought a new wave of slick to pour out of him, evident in how wet and glistening the toy was when it pulled out. The liquid stuck to the circumference, dribbling down its surface and making a mess everywhere, almost as if a whole bottle of lube had been spilled onto his lap.

Lance gasped, mouth falling open, unable to stop the hitching of his breath with each thrust. His hands were still stuck inside the chair, his fingers gripping onto its leathery insides with all he had. His reflection gasped back, depraved and wanton.

He was going to cum again, he was definitely going to cum, his whole body was tense with it, but how, how could he, he wasn’t even _hard--_

He felt his body clamp down on the toy unwillingly, felt it hit against that sensitive spot and his prostate all at once and he realized that he was cumming, a flood of liquid spilling forth from his hole, cascading noisily out of him as the toy continued to fuck into him, elongating his orgasm. Wave after wave of pleasure rocked him until it was just on the edge of painful when the toy slowed, and upon the last trust, buried itself inside and began to pumped something into him.

It took Lance a moment to realize that there was copious amounts of liquid steadily being pumped into him, the middle girth of it stopping from anything from leaking out.

“Wh-what?” he croaked. The lower part of his belly in his reflection was starting to bulge outwards, but not by much; it was almost akin to his look after eating a full meal.

The droid beeped and the liquid ceased to stop pumping inside. Lance gave a groan of relief; he felt so full, it was almost too much.

“Last phase,” the droid said.

The hum of vibrations started up and instead of it being the seat, this time it was the toy that was buried inside him. He cried at the unexpectedness, the sound slowly devolving into a long, drawn out whimper. The vibrations were stimulating all his nerves, his prostate and the other sensitive spot, stirring all the liquid that was inside of him. It was as uncomfortable as it was delicious, a strange combination that had him floating in a pleasant cloud of non-thought.

After some indeterminate amount of time, the droid beeped again, which seemed to signal the end of the phase. The toy slid out of Lance slowly, the retreat out of his body making a messy squelching noise.

In the reflection, his hole was red and gaping and _wet_ as a cloudy liquid leaked out, mixing together with his slick on the seat.

Lance closed his eyes and looked away, partially from shame, and partially because he didn’t want to get hard again.

The chair changed, gradually letting Lance’s limbs go, rearranging him so he was sitting in a normal high backed chair that he was used to. He was wet, covered in fluid that was both his and not, and he wasn’t sure that he could stand on his own quite yet.

“Prepare for decontamination,” the droid said.

“I don’t think I can move,” Lance croaked after a beat. His limbs all felt like jelly.

“Very well,” the droid chirped and the chair glided across the room, back to the decontamination chamber with Lance on it.

* * *

After a very thorough cleaning and decontamination, the droid led Lance back to the front of the shop, where Keith and the lady alien from before were waiting. Keith looked like he was a hair away from tearing into the back with his bayard, ready to go in swinging until he found Lance.

Aww, Keith was worried about him.

“Are you okay?” was the first words Keith said to him, his eyebrows knitted together in a frown. “You were in there for a while.”

“Peachy,” Lance replied and was surprised at how normal he sounded. He felt like he could sleep for a century.

“Better now?” the lady alien asked and Lance would have turned redder than Keith’s Lion if he wasn’t so tired. She looked so earnest and sympathetic that he didn’t have the heart to be angry at her.

“No idea,” Lance admitted, but if this little...excursion helped with his symptoms at all, then. Well.

He was screwed once he went back to the Castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What even is consistent chapter length. Also, unbeta'ed as always, sorry for any mistakes.
> 
> Also, Lance was totally riding an alien sybian. Just sayin'. ;)


End file.
